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by Ironkhaleesi



Series: Little Sister!Reader Incest - Marvel/Supernatural/Sherlock/Vikings/The Originals/Game of Thrones/Teen Wolf/King Arthur: Legend of the Sword [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Incest, Reader Insert, Smut, Wincest - Freeform, no between Sam and Dean, older brother/little sister incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkhaleesi/pseuds/Ironkhaleesi
Summary: Based on this request: I was wondering if you could do a wincest Deanxreader nsfw; Dean is secretly in love with shy reader and one day she finds his journal full of his dreams and pictures of her? And he walks in and is super embarrassed like the puddin’ he is?





	Home

Dean had a sour look on his face as he leaned back against the Impala next to Sam, arms folded, and watched you.

You were talking to a person of interest in the current case the three of you were working. Even from across the parking lot, Dean could tell you didn’t want to be talking to them.

Growing up with three, domineering men, you had always been the shy, quiet-spoken one in the family. That didn’t mean you had anything less to bring to the table than your older brothers – people were consistently underestimating you – but it did mean you didn’t like dealing with the social part of the job.

You were constantly being asked to repeat yourself, and when you ran into real assholes (mostly other hunters) your capabilities were questioned as well.

Sam always said it didn’t help having an older brother like Dean. You preferred to prove people wrong through your actions and then just put it behind you but Dean could never let things like that go.

He was constantly getting into fights on your behalf which didn’t usually reflect that well on you.

Not to mention the rumours Dean’s overprotectiveness caused. Rumours that made even Sam stand up in anger, whilst Dean’s stomach came to life with nerves.

Because the rumour was that Dean’s brotherly actions weren’t entirely brotherly.

“I don’t get why you make her do this,” Dean growled as he watched you twist the hem of your shirt around your fingers.

It was your nervous tick.

“She needs to learn, Dean,” Sam said. “She’s too shy. She needs to be more confident around people.”

“That’s why she has us,” Dean said. His brow still furrowed in annoyance. “She doesn’t need to change anything. She’s perfect the way she is.”

Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift as Sam looked at him. He made sure to keep his eyes fixed on you and his expression blank. He knew there would be suspicions and questions in his brother’s stare.

Sam finally looked away and Dean relaxed, only to tense up again when Sam muttered, “You wonder why there’s all those rumours about you and Y/N.”

Dean knew he should have snapped at Sam – or looked at him in disgust at least. That was the normal behaviour. But he froze. And then Sam’s eyes were on him again and the only thing that saved Dean from scrutiny was you walking back to the car.

You slowed as you got closer to the two of them.

“Are you guys fighting again?” you said as you eyed Dean’s expression.

“No, sweetheart,” Dean said as he pushed off the car and let his arms drop to his sides.

You shifted on your feet as you looked between them. “Did … did I do something wrong?”

The question wiped the frown from Dean’s face. He gave you a gentle look. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was angry at you. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been angry with you.

Sam always said that with Dean in the room you could get away with murder.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Dean said as he smoothed a hand down the back of your head and drew you into his side. He jerked his head towards the car. “You’re in the front seat. Sammy’s being annoying.”

You smiled as Sam protested and Dean nudged you towards the passenger seat.

Sam could have sneezed wrong and Dean would have given you the front seat. In fact, the only thing that kept Dean from giving it to you permanently was the bitch fit that Sam would throw.

****

Dean was looking at a photo of you when your knock sounded on his bedroom door and his heart leapt in fear.

For a moment, his fingers tightened on the journal that laid open in his lap as he stared at the door. The journal filled with photos of you. The journal filled with the thoughts and dreams he had about you. The thoughts and dreams that he could never tell anyone.

“Uh … come in,” Dean said as he fumbled with the journal before sliding it under his pillow rather than back under the mattress.

You opened his door and Dean looked up to find you standing there in one of his shirts. Your head was ducked down but you were looking up at him through your lashes and your toes were curling against his carpet.

He knew he had never – would never – see anything more beautiful. It was impossible. You were the only Winchester that God didn’t fuck up and Dean thanked him every day for it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said.

Sometimes it surprised him to hear his voice when he spoke to you. The tone was something he would never use for anyone else. You were the only person he was ever that gentle with. The only person he was never hard on. The only person that took the jaded growl out of his voice.

You dropped your eyes to the floor and played with the hem of Dean’s shirt as you rubbed your toes against the carpet.

“I had a bad dream,” you said.

Those words fuelled a fire in Dean’s chest. It didn’t matter that it was just a dream – that there was nothing he could do to prevent them – he was suddenly looking for a monster to kill on your behalf.

But there was none, and all he could do was shift over in his bed and say, “Come here, baby.”

His heart jumped in fear again as the pet name slipped out of his mouth. He only ever called you sweetheart. ‘Baby’ wasn’t something he was meant to call his little sister.

You didn’t bat an eyelash, you just shot forward and jumped on his bed – bouncing as you pulled the covers back to slide under them. He relaxed and slid down with you.

You snuggled into his side, throwing your leg over his hips and an arm across his chest. He used to tease you when the two of you were little by calling you a koala bear. You used to cling to him like your life depended on it.

You grew out of it – mostly because John forced you too – but the koala bear still came out when you shared a bed with Dean.

He’d heard plenty of men bitch and moan about how they hated when women wanted to cuddle. In his opinion, they had no idea what they were missing out on.

He switched the lamp off before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him.

He could feel the entire front of your body pressed to his side. Your naked thigh a weight across his lower abdomen and your barely clothed centre pressed to his hip in the most awful temptation.

Your face rested just in the crook of his neck, so he fell asleep with the scent of your hair in his nose and the feel of your breath against his neck.

Yeah, those other guys had no idea what they were missing out on.

****

“So, what are we doing today?” you called out from Dean’s room.

He had no doubt you were trying to pull his sheets into some sort of neatness. You were always trying to straighten out his stuff. It reminded him of Mary.

“No idea,” he replied around his toothbrush as he braced himself against his sink.

He smiled as he heard a thump and a huff. You were always falling over yourself.

“Well … was-wasn’t Sam looking for cases last night?” you said.

He spat out the excess toothpaste and said, “Came up with bupkis.” He rinsed out his mouth before putting away his toothbrush. “We can just watch movies while Sam does his nerdy thing.”

He frowned as he wiped his mouth on the towel. He couldn’t hear anything from his room.

“Sweetheart?” he said.

When he was still met with silence, he walked into his room and froze at the sight before him.

You were sitting on the edge of his half-made bed. His pillows were on the ground and in your hands was his journal. The very journal he had dedicated to his dark secret.

You looked up at him and it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. There was shock on your face – he expected that – what he hadn’t expected were the tears in your eyes.

He felt like he’d betrayed you. Like you’d discovered this line he’d been dancing on and now he’d lost your trust and your respect.

He was supposed to be your big brother. He was supposed to love you and protect you from everything bad the world had to offer.

But he didn’t. Because he didn’t protect you from him.

And now you knew. Now you knew that every time he looked at you, it wasn’t innocent. Now you knew that every time he hugged you, he was smelling your hair. Now you knew that every time he squeezed you tighter, it was because he loved the way your body felt against his.

Now you knew that every time you snuggled up to him, he closed his eyes and pretended the two of you were a couple.

“Hey, guys?”

Dean jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice and spun to face his younger brother. Whatever Sam saw in his face had his own paling.

“What happened?” Sam said, his voice shaking.

Dean’s stomach churned with nausea. He didn’t expect you to keep this a secret. He didn’t have the right to ask that of you.

And yet …

“Nothing, Sammy,” you said. “I was just teasing Dean about his journal. What’s up?”

You sounded so calm and relaxed that Dean had to turn and look at you. What he saw threw him through a loop. You were smiling at Sam, looking as though you hadn’t just found your older brother’s journal that was filled with his fantasies of fucking you.

“Oh,” Sam said as he looked between the two of you. “Uh … I just came by to see if you guys wanted something from the store? I’m heading out for a beer run.”

“Actually, why don’t you let me and Dean go?”

“Really?” Sam and Dean said in unison as they looked at you.

Your smile brightened. “Sure. I could use some fresh air. So could you, Dean. You’ve been grumpy lately.”

You winked – actually winked – at him. And Dean was raking his mind, wondering whether or not he had imagined you finding his journal. No, it was still sitting open in your lap. You’d definitely seen it.

“Oh, uh, o-okay,” Sam said. “Sure. I’ll … see you guys when you get back.”

He gave Dean a questioning look because his face was still filled with horror.

When he left, Dean turned to look at you again. The smile was gone, leaving behind a blank mask. Without looking at him, you closed Dean’s journal and tucked it beneath his mattress.

Then, you got up and left his room, heading towards the garage. You were still only wearing his shirt and Dean knew then that the two of you wouldn’t be coming back with beer.

He feared that he wouldn’t be coming back to the bunker at all.

****

Dean was rigid as he sat behind the wheel of his Impala. You’d told him to take the road out of town, then spent the next 20 minutes staring out your window.

He couldn’t read you. Which scared him in and of itself because he could always read you. But what was he expecting?

Anger? Sure.

Sadness? Why not.

But what if … no, he dared not think it.

You were his sweet little angel. His shy little princess. You would never be as depraved as he was.

“Pull over,” you said.

Your voice shocked him but he did what you asked without question. He chanced a glance at you when he turned off the engine but you just got out of the car. He watched you like a hawk, his stomach filling with dread as he twisted his hands around the steering wheel.

You had your back to him as you walked a few paces up the side of the road. And even then – even in this fucked up situation – Dean couldn’t help but take in his fill of your body.

You turned and his eyes snapped up to meet yours. He felt like a deer in headlights as you stared at him through the windshield.

He swallowed once and forced himself to climb out of the car. He kept his eyes down, like a scolded child, as he rounded the hood. His hands shook so bad that he had to lean back against the car and press his hands against it.

Only then did he look back up at you.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” you said.

He dropped his eyes again. He couldn’t look at you anymore. Not when you knew what he was thinking when he did.

He said nothing.

“Dean, I found a journal – your journal – filled with pictures of me,” you said as you walked towards him. “And – And entries of dreams that you’ve had about me. Of all the times you’ve imagined fucking me. Of all the women you’ve pretended were me.” Still, Dean said nothing. “Are you seriously going to stand there and –”

“Tell me what you want me to say … and I’ll say it,” Dean said.

Because he couldn’t stand there and watch you begin to hate him. He couldn’t stand there and watch you slip through his fingers. He needed to salvage this.

He needed you.

You scoffed. “That isn’t how this is going to work, Dean. We can pretend this never happened. We can go back to the bunker. You can burn that journal and you’ll be nothing more than my older brother. We won’t be the same. We won’t be close anymore. Or …”

Dean closed his eyes as they welled up. 

Before the next words left your mouth he already knew what his choice was going to be. Because he had always known that he’d rather live on the outskirts of your life rather than not have you in his life at all.

“You can tell me you’re in love with me.”

His head snapped up at those words and he stared at you in shock. 

That wasn’t the second option he was expecting. Was it even an option? What would happen if he took it?

Were you just looking for clarification that this wasn’t a misunderstanding?

Seeing his confusion, you closed the gap until his jacket brushed against the front of your body and you had to crane your neck back to look up at him.

“We can go back to the bunker … or you can tell me you’re in love with me. Pick one, Dean.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stared down at you. “Y/N … I …”

“Say it, Dean. Or don’t say anything at all.”

What more did he have to lose? You were already gone. He couldn’t have you the way he did before. And you were all he had, so, really … what was the point in hiding it anymore?

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “I have been for … for a long time.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe more yelling. Maybe you walking back home with the demand that he never returns to the bunker.

What he didn’t expect was for you to grab the front of his jacket and pull him down until his lips met yours. It happened so fast and was over so quick that he had to take a moment to wonder whether it happened at all.

But when he saw your flushed cheeks and the half-nervous, half-excited twinkle in your eyes he knew that it had happened.

His hands were under your arms and his pulling you off the ground in seconds, turning and setting you on the hood of his Impala as his lips meshed with yours once again. He slid his tongue past your lips, sure now that there was no mistaking what you wanted.

He grunted as you pulled him in hard against you with your legs around his hips.

You whimpered as his jeans rubbed against the thin material of your underwear, and Dean drank the sound down as though it were the last drop of water on earth.

He pulled away long enough to watch as you yanked open his belt and jeans.

“Are you sure?” Dean said, his voice gruff as he looked down at you.

“Never been sure about anything but this,” you breathed as you finished up and pulled his head down to yours again.

He groaned against your mouth in approval as he dropped his hands to your hips and yanked at your underwear. You lifted your hips so he could slide them down your legs, and then they were lost in the long grass.

You grunted as he pressed a hand to your chest and pushed you onto your back. Neither of you were very concerned about being gentle. Least of all Dean. He’d spent years hiding his feelings for you and never had it occurred to him that you could feel the same way.

It still wasn’t real to him. He was scared that he was going to wake up any moment – that this was just another one of his dreams that would go down in his journal of things that could never be.

He yanked your shirt – his shirt – up to your waist and wasted no time diving his face between your thighs.

You moaned out his name and clutched his hair. Dean had never heard or felt anything as amazing as that.

He’d never tasted anything as amazing as you either. He groaned against you and had to press his forearm against your hips to stop them from bucking up.

You whined in protest when he finally pulled away.

“I wanna feel it the first time I make you cum,” he said as he looked down at your pleading face, your writhing body, and pushed his jeans down past his ass.

You squeaked when he grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the hood. You gave him a bright smile when he looked up at your face.

For the millionth time that day, his stomach churned, only this time it was with butterflies. He never thought he’d see you smiling up at him from the position you were in. He never thought he’d get to touch you the way he was touching you now.

He never thought you could still love him after finding out his secret.

He kept his eyes locked with yours and let out a long moan as he entered you. Despite his earlier rush and roughness, he kept this slow and gentle.

He bent over your body, resting his forearms on either side of your head, and watched your face as he kept his strokes slow and deep.

He committed every one of your facial expressions to memory lest he never get this opportunity again.

The way your brows furrowed up. The way your lips would part as you let out the sweetest moans Dean had ever heard. The way your eyes would stay locked with his and how sometimes they would close when you threw your head back, only to be drawn right back to his.

He’d never been this intimate with a woman before. He’d fucked plenty, sure, but he’d never watched their faces as he made love to them. He never even did missionary with them. The best positions were always the ones where he didn’t have to look at them and there was the least amount of skin contact.

But with you … he wanted to watch your face as he thrust into you. He wanted to see how he made you feel. He wanted every inch of his body to be pressed against yours.

It didn’t matter that you were his baby sister. Not anymore. All that mattered was that you were his and he was yours and he’d be damned if anyone would ever take that away from him.

He was willing to make a deal with the Devil himself to keep you.

“Dean …” you moaned. You tried to say something else but you could only groan as another wave of pleasure hit you.

“What is it, baby?” Dean panted. “Talk to me.”

You cupped his neck in your hands. “Please. Go faster. I wanna cum, Dean.”

Again, Dean was stuck trying to figure out if he was dreaming as he watched his little sister writhe beneath him on the hood of his car, begging to cum all over him.

He hooked his hand behind one of your knees and hoisted it high up his side to deepen the angle, then he held nothing back.

The car rocked with the force of his thrusts. Your head bowed back and your eyes squeezed shut as you cried out beneath him. Your hands flew up above your head to try and grab at whatever you could.

With your face now cut off from his viewing, he moved his other hand to yank your shirt up further until he could watch as your breasts bounced with every thrust.

After a moment, he dove his face down and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples. Biting and sucking wherever he could as he fucked you to orgasm.

Your hands came back down to clench in his hair and pluck at your other nipple. Once your first orgasm passed he allowed himself to get lost in the feel of you.

He stopped holding back and just drove into you for the sake of feeling you wrapped around him. He didn’t know if you’d orgasmed multiple times. He didn’t know if it was just the once. What he did know, is that once he finished inside you, he realised there was no place he’d rather be.

Wherever you were, that was home. Whether it be the bunker, or a run-down motel, or just the side of the road. You were his home.

And if anything ever took you away from him, the world could burn for all he cared. Because you were the only thing worth living for.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got more fics at iavengesuperwholock.tumblr.com


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